


Goodbye, Tonight

by sundogsandrainbows



Series: Lenyaverse: Sidestories [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also Hawke I Guess, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Background Relationships, Badass Elven Women: The Trilogy, Canon? What Canon?, Cousland Is Blackwall, Established Relationship, Everything Hurts, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Female Friendship, Fix-It of Sorts, Grief/Mourning, If Only They Knew, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lenyaverse, Minor Female Hawke/Isabela (Dragon Age), Minor Josephine Montilyet/Cassandra Pentaghast, Minor The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Momma Bear Fiona Coming Out To Slay, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Now a Good Good Boy, Old God Baby - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fill, Skyhold (Dragon Age), So much WORSE, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Badboy Contains So Much Angst, i don't know her, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundogsandrainbows/pseuds/sundogsandrainbows
Summary: In the garden of Skyhold, Leliana and Morrigan meet to reminiscent of common friends and old times. The lines between friend and foe blur and old bonds are tested, when the events of Adamant Siege unearth old regrets and new pain. Nothing is easy, nor as it seems.Tags of additional characters and pairings will get updated with the further progress of this story. Updates will be sporadic, due to my main focus being on my longfic"Of Elves And Humans:Redux."





	1. Unkindness Of Ravens

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Warden in the Gardens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548996) by [mangocianamarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch). 

> I like to think that before the events of this fic, Morrigan and Alistair talked at length and mangocianamarch’s fic [ “The Warden In The Gardens”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548996) describes perfectly what I have in mind with it. Hence I will refer to it in this fic, while naturally make it understandable on its own. Just for context and generally awesomeness, go show that fic and author some love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People believe that seeing several ravens at once means bad luck. Perhaps it is more than simple superstition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DASC Angst August prompt fill for [allisondraste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste) that ran away with me. For now completed as a two part thing, in the sense and bounds of the prompt given to me, but I plan to add to and expand on it a lot more soon. Hence why it is shown as multi-chapter story. Takes place in my personal canon worldstate and as such contains spoilers for my [Mahariel/Alistair longfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/235540/chapters/360987). Proceed at your own risk ;)
> 
> _(Worldstate PSA: Lenya Mahariel, DW rogue/certified badass = HoF, romanced/married Alistair who stayed a Warden. Mia Hawke, 2H Sword Warrior = Champion, sarcastic/red alignment, romanced Isabela, supported mages. Bethany is a Warden. Sareyn Lavellan, DW rogue = The Inquisitor. In an established relationship with Cullen at this point of the story, supported mages, Celene died, Briala is shadow ruler. Evangeline "Evie" Cousland, S&S Warrior = Non HoF Warden post Blight, companion to the Inquisitor and link to Ferelden’s Wardens. Replaces Blackwall. Relationship status with Leliana: It’s complicated.)_

_ **And if I die tonight** _  
_ **Would it all make sense? Would it all make sense?** _  
_ **If I die tonight** _  
_ **Would the wind chip away at my soul forever?** _

_\-- [Seether - Goodbye, Tonight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVD5CfGdtqY)_

_ _

“I met a Warden in the garden the other day, mother!”

Morrigan glanced up from the book she was reading, toward her son who bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. She suppressed a sigh. He was too much like his father at times. His lack of concept for time only proved that theory further, since ‘other day’ was too much of a stretch. Alistair had been gone for weeks now; first to the Western Approach, then directly toward the battle at Adamant Fortress, alongside Hawke, the Inquisitor and her forces. Which explained why it had been so quiet in the gardens lately, deceptively peaceful even.

There were still the odd soldiers left behind, patrolling the garden’s perimeters. Two elves tirelessly dug in the dirt of the herbal garden the Inquisitor had cultivated. Scouts and, ugh, chantry members strolled past the stone gazebo she occupied most of these days. Stretching her legs, Morrigan leaned back in her wicker chair and fixed these maddening brown eyes that were also way too alike _him_. “I know, Kieran. I was there too.”

Unless there was a particular _other_ Warden who had arrived in the meanwhile and she’d missed, of course. But no, this was impossible. Lenya was out in the west, far beyond Skyhold, searching for the taint’s cure, according to her fellow Warden and… husband. Safe too from whatever held its thrall over the Wardens, hopefully. Morrigan lowered the book to give Kieran her full attention. It was dreadfully dull in its attempt to spin an interesting story, anyway. “The Warden… wasn’t an elf, right?” Why was she even entertaining the idea? ‘Tmust be sheer boredom, because the arrival of the Hero Of Ferelden – how Lenya was called these days – would not stay a secret for long with these prattling nobles roaming Skyhold.

“No!” He stopped bouncing, and a smile appeared in place of the motion. “Well, not quite.” What was that supposed to mean? “You just told me you were there too, mother. How could you not know of Alistair then? Have you already forgotten?”

“No. I have not.” She shook her head. Cursed be Alistair’s prior presence and the Inquisitor’s questions about the Blight. There were more important things to do than to reminiscent of things and people past. When would they finally return from the siege? Being idle for so long wasn’t something she liked to be, especially not when the danger of a self-proclaimed elder god still loomed over Thedas. Always gods twas, yearning for power and control – ten years ago during the Blight and even now. Figures.

Her son tilted his head as if listening to the afternoon breeze wheezing in between the surrounding wall’s cracks. “The song the Wardens fear is fake, created to divert, to destroy them. Does the Inquisitor know this?”

Ah. Almost eleven years and her son still managed to catch her off-guard at times, whenever the old god soul part popped up through him. “I don’t know if she knows, Kieran. I hope so, but she didn’t say the last time we spoke. And this has been a while ago.”'Twas not as if anyone here was trying to keep her in the loop, if she didn’t seek out information on her own. What was her role as the Inquisition’s arcane adviser even worth, if there was no one to advise for?

“I told Alistair about it,” he said brightly, and sat down in the chair next to her. Immediately, he fell into the habit of rocking his feet back and forth. Why could this kid not sit still for a moment? Twas an eternal mystery. “His eyes… look familiar,” he stated out of the blue, jumping from one topic to the next, like so often. “Can I… “ Kieran bit his lip, hesitated. His movements stilled. “… spend some time with the Warden, once he is back?”

Again this question. It must have been the third time this week alone. Twas unlikely to impossible for him to suspect the truth about Alistair, yet something seemed to fascinate the boy about him. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Of course. It was more about _what_ Alistair was than _who_ he was. Regaling him with the stories of her adventures during the Blight when Kieran was younger had been a mistake. For it put the idea of heroic Wardens against the rest of Thedas in his head, where it had stayed ever since.

That fascination with the Wardens was yet another trait shared with his father, although Alistair looked much more tired, and was far more jaded regarding his Order these days. For good reasons, if the murmurs around Skyhold and facts from the war room were to believed. Ten years were a lot of time, could change a lot, even that fool’s never-ending optimism. Morrigan looked at her son and her eyes softened with a smile. No one knew that better than herself, that change time brought.

“You know the answer to your question well enough, young man. For you have posed it many times by now.”

“Only if I keep up with my studies,” Kieran echoed with youthful indignation, ending with a groan. “But mother… –“

“Knowledge is important, my son.” She kept her voice understanding, but firm. “Tis power and a weapon you need to arm yourself with, before picking up any other.” No child of her would grow up trapped in the wilds and ignorant of the outside world, like Flemeth did with her. She would not allow it. “ Everything else to it is secondary.”

“I knoooow.” A sigh deflated his annoyance into something softer. “Still can I sit here a bit longer with you, mother? I like to watch the people here.”

Morrigan put her arms around his shoulder and squeezed it gently. Ever the curious boy. “For a while, yes. Then you finish reading up on the passage I showed you this morning. Understood?”

Kieran nodded, then relaxed and leaned into her loose embrace. They stayed like this for a moment, the peace fragile but sought after. The sunlight had lost some of its prior brilliance and warmth in the afternoon dim. Mellow tendrils of gold and pink were cast against gray stone and the vivid green and red of the garden. The idle chatter of the people here had dwindled to quiet murmur too, thankfully. Skyhold seemed to settle in the lull of an approaching evening, yet another without news from the Inquisitor, or the battle fought far away. Against a demon army raised by Wardens, of all people.

“Morrigan...” Her eyes snapped open. When had they closed, even? She wasn’t tired. Especially not now with _that_ voice calling her name. It still had the melodic lilt, but with a harder edge. Leliana came into vision a moment later, when the reddish, distanced glare of the sun in her back was lessened by her proximity. Stopping in front of the gazebo, her face was shrouded and unreadable, not only by her hood but by the shadows the roof cast on the ground. Morrigan scoffed quietly. How very fitting twas, this entrance for the spymaster.

“Look, who has found the exit of Skyhold’s tower after all,” she said, breaking the stretching silence between them. Morrigan clicked her tongue, nary could hinder another roll of her eyes. “One could think you had forgotten where it is, cooped up as you are in that building.”

“Hello!” Kieran greeted her brightly with a frantic wave of his hand. “I saw a flock of raven flying from that tower earlier.”

“Unkindness,” Leliana said, a subtle smile in her voice. “A flock of ravens is called unkindness.”

“Why?” He tilted his head in order to make sense of this new piece of information.

“’Tis foolish superstition, son. Nothing more.”

“People believe that seeing several ravens at once is bad luck,” Leliana explained, her tense stance relaxing a bit.

“But they carry letters and news to people from your tower. How can this be bad?”

The sharp angles of Leliana’s face became more visible as she approached Kieran. “Sadly, sometimes they are bad, due to the content of the news they bring.”

“Is this why you are here?” Morrigan nodded toward the letter in the spymaster’s hands.

“No.” Her hood swayed back and forth a little as she shook her head. “Unless you think hearing from an old friend we have in common is bad news.”

Oh. Morrigan’s lips parted and the exhale passed them as a gasp. “Your agents have found her?”

“Hmm.” With an amused hum, Leliana rounded the chairs, sat down on the bench opposite of them. Her gloved hand brushed the hood down, while the other held on to the letter that suddenly had gained so much in importance.

“Your hair is pretty. Like fire.”

“Kieran!” Morrigan sighed out loud. “Please –“

“Such a charming boy.” Leliana chuckled, the amusement carried in her tone even as her gaze became pointed. “Reminds me of someone.”

She reciprocated the spymaster’s look with a glare, daring her to say anything further. That hood would be the only thing left of her, then. “The letter arrived with a raven almost a week ago,” Leliana said, relenting to a safer topic. Good. “Alas I have been swamped with work, or I would have approached you sooner about it.” So she kept her agents close to wherever Lenya was at the moment? Clever. “Besides, Alistair asked me to relegate news of Lenya to you, once she was found. Oddly enough.”

“We talked briefly, before he left with the Inquisitor and Hawke.” Morrigan heaved her shoulder to a shrug. “I offered.”

“So you _do_ remember the Warden in the gardens, mother!”

“They have... met?” Surprise flashed upon Leliana’s features before she trained her expression back into neutrality. “Here.” She handed her a two part letter written on aged parchment, and a closed envelope. “I would read it out loud for you, but it _is_ Lenya we are talking about here. So unless your son is meant to learn some very colorful words, you better read it for yourself.”

Instead of doing so, Morrigan turned to her son. “Tis time, Kieran. Do run along please and dedicate yourself to the task I have given to you prior. I have laid out the book and passage for you in your room.”

“Already?” His face scrunched up to a scowl that she immediately tempered with her own sharp look.

“We had an agreement, didn’t we?” Firmness was needed with a child at times, but never cruelty. No shattered mirrors, nor slaps resounding through the silence otherwise filled with screaming and harsh lessons unfit for a kid. She wasn’t her mother. Morrigan laid her hand upon his, gave it a short, reassuring squeeze. “I will join you for supper, but this here is important, son. As are your studies.”

“Fine.” He huffed out a long breath and propelled himself off his chair. “Goodbye, fiery lady!”

“Leliana,” she corrected with a giggle reminiscent of old times. “And you are welcome to visit the ravens in the tower some other day.” Blue eyes met her own. “Given your mother’s approval, of course.”

“I would love that!” Kieran bounced with newfound enthusiasm. “Can I, mother?”

“Twill be a discussion for another time,” she replied, fighting the small smirk tugging at her lips. “Now run along, dear.” Nodding, he gave Leliana a final wave and rushed toward their quarters.

The spymaster had the grace to wait until he had vanished through the door before raising her voice again. “He is –“

“… a normal boy, like I already told… his father.” She rolled her eyes. “Also annoyingly like him, at times.”

“… energetic, I was about to say. But yes, also that. Curious.” Did her spy network not have all the information possible on Kieran and herself already? Why was surprise lacing her mirth? Morrigan shook herself. No matter. Back to the letter and Lenya’s first words in near a decade to, well, read.

The first page ended here and Morrigan quietly chuckled to herself. Ten years could and had changed a lot, but not Lenya’s brazenness, sarcasm and lack of tact. She didn’t mince her words then and obviously still didn’t. ‘Twas a quality Morrigan had always appreciated about her, and one they shared. At least back then. Things were different now, since her life at the Orlesian Court, since Kieran grew up. Carefully chosen words and diplomacy became a necessity, her new every day life – as frustrating as it had been many times to her own blunt nature. ‘Twas reassuring and refreshing that at least Lenya openly kept her distaste for its usage all through these years.

“If there is one good thing about her utter disregard of any protocol or respect for the recipient...” Leliana snorted out a laugh. “… it is that no one could ever forge her letters, and not due to her uniquely scrawly hand.”

“And she is as foul-mouthed as ever,” she agreed, the warm tug within her stomach unexpected.

“Yes.” Leliana leaned back on the bench and rested her hands on her knees. “Lenya made an active effort to swear less whenever her daughter was around, at least.” She grinned. "Didn't last, obviously."

What? Her eyelids fluttered. Did she hear that correctly? “Daughter? I thought – ”

“You don’t know?” How could she? Morrigan had seen her last… what? About nine years ago before she left through the Eluvian. Bemused, the redhead shook her head. “Her and Alistair ended up adopting Amethyne some years ago. She was that elven girl who lost her mother during the attack on Highever. We met her during the Blight in Denerim’s Alienage.”

Morrigan shrugged. “Never heard of this child.” Not that it was of importance either way, but it was curious all the same to imagine Lenya as a mother. Then again, a lot of people would say the same about herself and Kieran.

“Anyhow, she isn’t little anymore by now, of course,” Leliana continued. “And according to my agents, Amethyne is currently in hiding along with the rest of Ferelden’s Wardens; Hawke’s sister among them. They are expected to arrive at Skyhold once Adamant and Corypheus’ demon army is dealt with. To aid the Inquisition.”

“I see. Have you gotten any news back regarding that? Or from the Inquisitor?” Stopping with a groan, she rolled her eyes. “You wouldn't tell me even if you had, right, spymaster?”

“What makes you say that, Morrigan?” Her slight mocking tone was irritating. “We are old friends and have a common interests in seeing the Inquisitor and her allies succeeding.” Leliana’s shoulders sagged, all displaced humor gone. “Unfortunately, no, I have not. I expect news coming in from a raven any day now, though.”

This explained why the spymaster had time to lounge in the garden with her, then. Though the diversion and news from Lenya were very much welcomed, of course. Instead of a reply, Morrigan turned toward the second part of her old friend’s letter.

Reading the last lines, there were steps and the shadow of a person was splayed across the gazebo’s ground. Morrigan looked up from the letter. Normally people avoided the pla –

“Sister Leliana!” A haggard, lanky man in telltale inquisition uniform rested his hands on his knees, as he snapped for air.

The spymaster tensed. “What is it?”

“A raven – “ A flock of birds overhead flapped loudly, fell into his words. Morrigan glanced skywards. No, not birds. Raven. Unkindness, how Leliana called them. Such a ridiculous name. “There has been news from Adamant, ser!”

Leliana jumped up from her seat, while Morrigan merely sat up straighter in her chair. The runner eyed her and swallowed before addressing the spymaster again. “The sealed letter of the Inquisitor, along with Commander Cullen’s report awaits you at your desk in the tower at your earliest convenience! I was told to notify you of its arrival.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head to the man as he left, and huffed out a laugh. “Of course… the one time I am not at my desk, news arrives.”

If it was a letter from the Inquisitor personally, this meant her survival, and victory in the siege. “No demon army running rampant through Thedas, then. Tis such a relief.”

“Yes. This is a great victory for the Inquisition and a real blow against Corypheus, indeed. Anyway, it has been fun catching up, Morrigan, but duty calls.” Turning to leave, Leliana stopped at the bottom of the gazebo’s stairs and peered over her shoulder at her. “Do you want me to pass on news to you about Alistair, should the report contain any?”

Morrigan folded Lenya’s letter again and let the pages rest in her lap. She glanced back up to her. “Why would I want, or need that?”

She chuckled. “That scowl of yours is like in old times, friend.” Hesitating, the spymaster released a breath. “Maybe not for you, but for Kieran. He seems rather interested in Alistair, no?”

“Yes, annoyingly so, ever since meeting him.”

“Ah, you know, Alistair has that kind of effect on people.“ Morrigan gave her a pointed look at that. “Are you ever going to tell him the truth? About Alistair? Who he really is?”

“And then what, Leliana?” Ugh, and here it was the reminder why they never got along well a decade earlier: her sickening optimism. “We become a happy family who huddles together under a blanket, telling old stories of the Blight?”

She shrugged, but her nonchalant gesture was belied by her pressing further. “It just seems there is a reason why Kieran is drawn to him.”

Yes, his uniform, possibly the taint in his blood too, given her son’s, well, origin of creation. “Twas never part of the agreement with him, so why should I? Besides, Alistair has his own family to concern himself with. His wife Lenya, willing her return, and, as you told me, a daughter, even. So stop pressing this issue that is none of your business in the first place!”

“Fine.” Leliana relented. “Shall I –“

“If it keeps you from continuing, yes,” Morrigan cut into her words with a scoff. “Yes, send a runner or deliver the news yourself, so my son can sleep peacefully at night. Choose whichever option of them achieves the same for you.”

“Alright. Meet you here in the gardens later, then. Perhaps with some wine?”

Perhaps not at all, which she would prefer. “If time allows it, maybe.” Ugh, cursed be her learned habit of diplomacy. She should have told her off instead. However, the prospect of getting first-hand news about the recent events was too enticing.

Leliana gave her an agreeing nod and vanished behind the large apple tree into the building. Leaning back, she rubbed both temples with her fingers. Like some twisted mage specialized in it, the bard never failed to conjure up a headache. Then again, it had been a long day in general.

The sun would set very soon, too. So however appealing it would to be informed about recent matters, she couldn’t, nor wouldn’t wait long for the spymaster to return.

* * *

The sun had set, the book hadn’t predictably gotten any better either, and Leliana did not return to the now quite empty garden. Of course. The one time Morrigan tried to be accommodating to the bard, she had been stood up by her. Figures. Back to her son then. At least with him she could be sure he would be there where she expected him to be.

With a scoff she rose from her seat, and the letters in her lap toppled to the ground. Ah, yes. She’d almost forgotten about these being here. She picked them back up, thumbing the closed envelope as she did so. Lenya’s message for Alistair. Whatever sickening sweet words of longing and, ugh, other things it contained was a matter of privacy and not of interest for her at all. And yet –

Ravens cawed overhead, flying away into the night’s sky. With an organization as large as the Inquisition, there was always news to deliver to other parts of Thedas. She glanced down at the letter in her hand. ...Or beyond. What happened with the Wardens was troubling, yet it was reassuring that neither Lenya, nor Alistair were involved in undoing their Order’s legacy.

Like herself, they had made the best out of their situation, had build a life for themselves on top of the ruins of the Blight. It was nice knowing that in whatever small parts, she helped to make it happen. Morrigan scoffed, at herself and these thoughts. Here she was, standing in the dark with just the wisps of light and some ravens overhead as company, being a sentimental fool again. Ten years indeed changed a lot.

Perhaps she should make a detour to sate that displaced sensation of melancholy for things past. Perhaps she would sleep better tonight knowing that this envelope here would still have a recipient. Another scoff. Of all the unlikely things happening to her, _worrying_ about Alistair, of all people, would have been her very last guess.

Morrigan looked up at the tower and sighed. Well, if the news wouldn’t come to her, she had to go to its source, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally my worldstate, headcanons and story in regards to DA:I and personal canon are more complex than the scope of this fic allows, so i have simplified some things, like characters, relationships and plot/timelines to fit it all in and make it understandable for the reader. It will be all more expended on in a future da:i longfic, don't worry :D
> 
> Consider leaving Kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed reading my story (so far) Thanks <3


	2. Words As Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weapons cut deeply, as it is their nature and purpose, but sometimes words are the weapons that cut even deeper and sustain a much worse injury than any blades ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst train into the abyss, chuu chuu :D 
> 
> Btw, the amount of chapters of the fic given so far is a simple estimate based on my rough outline for it, but it can still change in either direction.

“Morrigan...” There she sat, at her desk, hectically wiping at her face. Of course Leliana's bird-infested office had to be on the very top of this large, winding tower. A half-emptied bottle of wine sat on her desk, papers and reports strewn around it. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she bristled, hands stemmed into her sides. “Twas you who urged me to wait for you! Don’t you think I have anything better to do than to stand about in the garden at night like a fool?”

“Oh...” Leliana cleared her throat, and her face sunk deeper into her hood. “I’m sorry… I forgot.”

_Forgot?_ A spymaster did not have matters slip their mind. It was so unlike her, in particular. Leliana sagged further in her seat, her exhale shaky. Something was amiss. “What happened?”

“It... is as you surmised. The battle had been won, but –“ she stopped, taking a deep sip from her wine cup. Putting it back down, she pushed a letter to the edge of her desk, toward Morrigan.

Taking it, she renewed the wisp of light overhead in order to actually be able to read in this somber, dull light of the tower. The Inquisitor had a clear, flowing hand and unlike Lenya preferred deliberately chosen words of diplomacy. Neither of these things could lessen the harsh facts found within, even though Lavellan’s explanations left more question behind than it answered. Only two things were abundantly clear:

One: The Inquisitor and her allies had defeated the Fear Demon in the Fade itself and as such released the Wardens from its thrall. Which in turn thwarted Corypheus’ plans of raising a demon army to take over Thedas.

Two: Both Wardens accompanying the Inquisitor, namely Alistair and Evie ‘Blackwall’ Cousland, did not make it out of the Fade through the rift created with Lavellan’s anchor, and are presumed dead.

The second fact was it which needed a moment to really sink in. When it did, Morrigan rushed forward, grabbed the wine bottle and took a deep pull out of it. “Blast and Damnation, this idiot!”

“The Commander’s brief report also mentioned…” Giving up all pretense, Leliana sniffed and trembled as she inhaled. “… they stayed behind to buy the others the time to escape through the rift. It… was too late for them, however.”

Morrigan slammed the bottle back down on the spymaster’s desk. ”Of course!” Another hot flash of anger rose through her guts up her throat, resulting in a frustrated outcry. “Of course this imbecile would fall back into an ill-advised fit of heroism and stay behind!” If Alistair weren’t already in the Fade, she would kick him so hard he would land there. “Tis not he has anything worth to live for here! Tis not as if – “

Tiny tremors shook her hands and thus both letters she held fluttered down on top of Leliana’s desk. As did the closed envelope. Oh. Oh no. She blinked faster and faster to keep most unwelcome tears at bay. She would not cry. Not for him, this eternally foolish man! Unbidden, her eyes fell back on the envelope and her sight blurred in spite of her not giving any permission for it. But these tears were not for him. They were for… _her_. Morrigan wiped them away. “You have to tell her...”

Head burrowed in her hands, Leliana was silent for a long, agonizing moment. “I… can’t...”

“What do you mean, you _can’t_?” Anger was easier, anger was more familiar and palatable. “Lenya deserves to know that Alistair –“ Her voice echoed through the tower, far too loud. So Morrigan stopped before any more damage in form of unwanted ears and listeners could be made.

A sob rocked through her. “I… know, Morrigan! I know.”

“Lenya will –“

“I’m aware.” Looking up, Leliana's eyes shone with tears in the half-dark. “I just can’t. Not now. Please.”

The nerves of that woman! She deepened her scowl, if only to hold off her own tears. Wait… the letter said two Wardens stayed behind, wasn’t it? Morrigan had only seen that other Warden in passing once, as she strolled through the gardens with – _Oh_. “My condolences to you, then. However little they may mean to you.”

“… Thank you.” She crossed her arms, almost as if embracing herself in an attempt of solace. “I would like to be alone now, if you don’t mind.”

Morrigan did mind, actually, but then again there was nothing left to do, or say either. “And then… what?”

Leliana took two, three controlling breaths before speaking, and still, her voice quivered. “Then... I will have to write some letters.”

“Yeah...” There was so much she still didn’t understand. How they landed in the Fade physically, first and foremost. Such a feat had been unheard of before, deemed impossible. She shook her head. It did not matter, not anymore. Like the message Lenya did send for… –

“What about –“ Leliana pointed at the envelope as if reading her mind.

“Keep it!” Morrigan spat, wrapping herself in the well-known warmth of ire. “Tis not as if her message to him is needed any longer, right?” She whirled round, away from that familiar face of the past, the letters and its meaning. “You can explain to her why your Inquisition wasn’t capable to keep her Wardens alive, one of them being her husband!” With that, she stormed away, the need to be gone and away from all that too strong. But if Lenya’s unpredictability was still anything similar to how it had been during the Blight, Skyhold would burn.

And Morrigan would let her.

* * *

  
“Excuse me...” Her flight down the tower was halted by a sudden voice. She turned to its source and it belonged to a petite, elven woman who sat in an upholstered chair, framed by bookshelves. Behind her a small fire crackled in a hearth and its light reflected in her large, brown eyes.

“Yeeeesss?” Morrigan managed, her annoyance apparent.

The elder woman put the book down, into her lap. “I couldn't help to overhear you talking with Sister Leliana.”

Ugh, of course. Elves and their extended hearing. Such a curse for others, indeed. Not that she had been subtle in her discussion with Leliana, but still, it was none of that woman’s business. “What about it?”

The elf paused for a moment, whether it was for effect or to choose her words was unclear. She brushed her hands off at her mage robe. “Is everything alright? You appear rather unsettled.”

_Mage robe_… – wait! This woman in front of her was the Grand Enchanter from Orlais, though not the one with the lavish furniture and clothes, with the room above Skyhold’s main hall. That was the _First_ Enchanter and a companion to the Inquisitor. Ugh, circle mages and their inane ranks and rules. Though this elf had the biggest part in finally undoing all the Circle’s lunacy. As such the former cattle had been set free, and was now an ally of the Inquisition. Good for them. “You are the rebellion leader of the mages from Redcliffe.”

She smiled, warmly. “I see my reputation precedes me. My name is Fiona, though. And you must be Morrigan.” Her eyes narrowed upon the elf, which only seemed to amuse her more. “Don’t look at me like that. As said, I couldn’t help to overhear. And Sister Leliana used your name. As you used Alistair’s name, I might add.” Fiona fixed her with a stare, which possessed nothing of its prior mellowness and she deliberately stretched the silence between them. “So… pray tell, _Morrigan_...” Her own name became a weapon on the elf’s lips. “… _what_ happened to my son?”

Wynne. Flemeth. Celene. She was used to dealing with elder women of the preachy or the powerful sort. Grand Enchanter Fiona, however, was different and neither of these things. She was beyond all that, not so easy to categorize, but clearly a woman not to be trifled with. And, ugh, also Alistair’s mother, apparently. How did she not see it earlier? It was so obvious now. She had the same brown skin and the same brown eyes like Alistair that now lingered upon her, demanding an answer. And for once, Morrigan was at a loss of words. Instead, laughter bubbled up her throat, unwanted and displaced.

“What is so funny about my question?”

“Nothing,” she amended, clearing her throat. “’Tis simply ironic, meeting you like this and at that point at time, Grand Enchanter. I am an old… acquaintance and companion –“

“Oh, I know exactly who you are, Morrigan,” Fiona cut into her words, each of her own a warning. “Don’t you ever doubt it.”

That did it. Whatever that woman’s issues with her was, were no longer of any consequence for her. Morrigan wouldn't stay around being lectured by some strange mage elf she’d only met, just because her son apparently had told her in embellished detail what for a horrible person she had been to him. Her now… _dead_ son. Oh, great. Just perfect. The anger deflated as quickly as it had come over her, dejection now in its wake. She had to get out of there. Leliana could deal with Fiona and the brunt of her wrath, for all she cared. “If you indeed know all about me, as you say, Grand Enchanter…” Pausing, Morrigan tilted her head and held Fiona’s iron stare with ease. Two could play that game. “Then you are also aware that I, too, have a son, and I need to return to him now. In regards of Alistair, do please direct your concerns toward the spymaster. Good night.”

Not waiting for a reply, Morrigan spun on her heels and steered toward the exit. Sometimes diplomacy wasn’t that bad.

* * *

  
Quietly, Morrigan closed the door of their small quarters behind herself. The flicker of candlelight illuminated the sparse, functional furniture within. The room in Skyhold, above its garden, was nothing like her quarters back in the Orlesian palace, of course. But it was functional and _theirs_, and offered any necessity she and Kieran required in their daily life here at Skyhold.

Leaning back at the wooden door, Morrigan exhaled, long and deeply. Finally this dreadful day was over and she could – what? Rest? Sleep peacefully, knowing what she knew? She shook herself, willing these unhelpful thoughts away. Better to focus on the here and now than to bemoan the what if’s and consequences to be. Those could be dealt with when it was time for it.

She crossed the room with equally quiet steps toward the desk, where Kieran sat, hunched over. Eyes closed and head resting on his arms, his breathing was a calm, steady rhythm. Next to him, an open book was turned over on its pages, as to mark the passage. ‘The Fifth Blight: Songs and Tales’ read the title of the book, with griffons and swords depicted under it. Twas definitely not the one she’d tasked him to read, yet given the cover, she could see why it had appealed to him.

When Morrigan picked up the book to return it to its shelf, Kieran stirred. “...Mother?” His voice was drowsy. “You are back.”

“And you shouldn’t sleep hunched over at your desk, young man.”

“I was waiting for you...” Kieran straightened and stretched himself with a yawn. “I… fell asleep.”

“I am sorry, son.” She let her hand rest on his back, halted to wait for the tightness of her throat to pass. “Something… occurred which hindered me from returning earlier.” Swallowing with some difficulty, her gaze softened. “I will make it up to you.”

Kieran turned and reached up to her in an attempt to hug her. Morrigan bent over to let him, and hugged him back. “Like visiting Leliana's ravens?”

No. She had been just there and nothing good came from it. She released him, her smile rather forced. “Perhaps, we can,” Morrigan said in spite. “… When you actually do the tasks given to you!”

“I did! He protested, though it was a bit meek. “But it took so long and you were gone and –“

“You think you can just ignore my orders then, hmm?”

“Nooo,” he whined, like the young boy he was. “But reading about the Orlesian history was boring!”

No argue there. All these pompous lords and ladies razing land and killing people not being their own. “Tis still a necessity, son. For now, though, lets get you to bed.”

“Fine...” Kieran relented with a pout and stood up to walk over to the other side of the room. Plopping down on the goose-down mattress of his bed, he unlaced his boots, one by one. While her son dressed down to get ready for sleep, Morrigan busied herself with putting out the unneeded candle still burning in its holder on top of the desk. “The false song… the one I told you about, has stopped, mother,” he said so suddenly her head snapped back to him in shock. The rustle of the blanket as Kieran slipped underneath it barely registered with her. “Did you know this?”

She stared, vaguely aware of blinking too much. Morrigan shook her head in order to regain her countenance. Walking over to him, she sat down at the edge of his bed. “I heard, yes. A raven came in earlier with a letter.”

“See...” His face brightened, these damn brown eyes looking back at her in wonder. Morrigan averted her gaze from them, had to. “Ravens are not bad. They brought good news back!”

The gasp escaped her on its own volition. _If only. _ “Why are you sad, mother?” He frowned, tilted his head slightly. “It is good that the Inquisitor has won and that the Wardens are free from the false song, no?”

“Yes… yes, it is. It is just – “ No, she wouldn't tell him. “Lie down, Kieran,” she said instead, sniffing as she did so. _Damn it._ “It is time to sleep.”

He followed suit, squirmed a little in order to find a comfortable position in his bed. Growing silent for a bit, it already seemed as if he’d settled to sleep. But then, he let out a gasp, as though a thought had crossed his mind all the sudden. “This means Alistair will be back soon!”

Oh. Oh no. A sob rocked through her and she was barely able to keep it hidden. She trembled with its effort, and the anger that ensued right after. This idiot! This infernal fool!

Kieran’s head turned and he frowned up at her. “Why are you crying, mother?”

Startled, Morrigan reached up to her cheek, finding it wet. Scowling at herself, she bent over to press a kiss on Kieran’s forehead. Her expression softened when she looked back at him. "Sometimes you simply are sad and there is no particular reason.” She huffed, at parts at her own words, parts at the unwanted sentimentality they contained. “And when you do, Kieran... it is okay to cry, then.” Such was a lesson she had to learn herself, and to unlearn what her own mother taught her, slowly in time. Kieran deserved better than that. Emotions weren’t a weakness. They could be, certainly, but all the more they were a source of strength. _He_, of all people, had once taught her that, so long ago. _Idiot_! She wiped at her tears and stood up. “Good night, son.”

“Good night,” Kieran echoed with a yawn and settled down. “I hope you feel better soon!”

Turning away from him, Morrigan shrouded her face in the shadows of their room and cried, quietly.

She hoped so, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: "Leliana and Morrigan meet in the garden to discuss the Inquisitor's decision to leave Alistair in the Fade."
> 
> As you can see i have run rounds around it and am yet not done with doing so *cackle* The continuation of the first two chapters will follow soon, so keep your eyes peeled, allison, and you other lovely folks here ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading my story :)
> 
> I haven't played DA:I in a long time so apologies if some details feel out of place or are wrong. Feel free to (politely) correct me in the comments, or/and leave general feedback/kudos if you enjoyed reading it. Especially the latter part would be most appreciated <3


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